Motorcycle Booktok Novels & Stories

She can image herself getting down from her own new sports bike, all bad girl style and people parting away giving her way to walk in. Which motorcycle should she buy?? How about a Harley Davidson. She could name it Mozzarella. Or maybe Margarita! "Emma Hart," She could even appoint some girls from her class as her side chicks. "Emma Hart," And they will fall over themselves to do whatever she wants. How cool would that be! Emma sighed dreamily. "Emma Hart" "Present Ma'am," Emma said, raising her hand and loud laughter broke out in the classroom. Emma pulled a stop to her train of thoughts when a fire breathing dragon stood in front of her.

I prayed. The End Book 2, coming Next Week. F#c#bo%k page: A.K.Knight Inst@gr@m: athan941

He already had a racing bike, but he wanted to get one that could go on road and off road for gravel roads and trails. "I found the perfect early birthday present for you," Emily announced. "The Ventana Nemesis." Byron was in the middle of working something out on his computer, so he didn't look up right away. When he did, the motorcycle of his dreams was staring him in the face from the glossy catalog. "It's 400 CC engine will take you anywhere across the most rugged terrain," Emily continued, "And maybe I'll get one for myself too... a smaller one, like this Ventana Minion."

Please. If heartbreak could kill me, it would’ve done it years ago. Kael Draven might’ve rejected me, but he didn’t get to erase me. Not when I was finally starting to feel real. But none of that mattered the next morning — not when they came back. I was halfway through repairing the damn engine I’d set on fire when the rumble of motorcycles cut through the air. Low, deep. Not the usual local drunks or weekend riders. These were pack bikes. Military style. Matte black.

"Talk." Maya threw her bag on the bed and sat down next to it. "Some guys from a motorcycle club helped me. They had a shop. Fixed my bike. End of story." "Which motorcycle club?" "Does it matter?" "Yes it matters. There are like three different clubs in this city and they're all bad news." Riley crossed her arms and did her I'm not leaving until you tell me face. "Which one?" "Iron Wolves." Riley's eyes went huge. "Are you serious right now?" Damn!!!

Magnus replied tersely. He led me outside and did not look back. We headed straight for the lined-up motorcycles and pressed the button on the keychain. One of the bikes started to sound—a Kawasaki KLX-150, white with a high frame. Alfonso smiled at that moment, seeming to really enjoy it. "Alright, Mikaela, let’s go! It’s a new day for us!" He revved the handgrip of the motorcycle as if he was thrilled by the bike. I quickly hopped on and sat behind him, wrapping my arms tightly around him and spoke. "Ready..." I smiled.

She tapped his shoulders and walked away. She smiled when she saw her red Panigale V4 R big bike. Itsuki brought it for her, as she rode in his car earlier. The servants, and most especially Marcus, can't see her, that she can ride a big bike. He might get intrigued by her identity. She immediately rode on her motorcycle and roared the engine.

We just park wherever the fuck we see space between sinkholes and potholes for whatever we’re driving. Luna simply sits there with her damn pussy pressed into my sweat- soaked back. I exhale a sigh. “This is the part where you get off the bike.” “Oh,” she says and withdraws her hands and pussy, scrambling off the motorcycle. I climb off, remove the key and shove it in my pocket. I know my bike will be safely parked—no one dares to lay a fucking finger on my ride unless they have an upcoming funeral planned. “I’ve been there,” Luna says brightly, pointing to a weirdo shop for supernatural potions and beauty bullshit.

My heart did a flip. "Hey, Toby," he said, straightening up. "Perfect timing. Are you done?" I nodded. "Yeah. What are you doing here?" He patted the back seat of his bike. "I want to show you something." I frowned. "What?" "It’s Friday. There’s a motorcycle race just outside the city." I stared at him. "A race?" "Yeah." "I have books to read," I said. "And chores." "You work every day." "I don't mind."

I expected him to stop at one of them. He walked right past them all. And stopped at a motorcycle. Not just any motorcycle. A sleek black Ducati that looked like it could break the sound barrier. All chrome and leather and danger. I stared. “You’re joking.” “I don’t joke about motorcycles.” He pulled two helmets from the storage compartment, offering me one. “You expect me to get on that thing?” “Unless you’d prefer to wait for the bus.” He was already putting on his helmet, and somehow even that looked unfairly attractive. “It’s safe. I promise.”